Poor Peter Rabbit has vacated the garage and all that remains is a partial jaw of a different victim lying sadly on the filthy, carpeted garage step.
Fast forward as Mike taught Molly how to start a fire in the fireplace.
Upon further inspection, I began to feel like a "Burb". After the smoke alarm went off, an interesting odor emerged from the fireplace- like burnt hair. Turns out a cremation for a deer skull left on the front porch earlier this week was taking place.
Tomorrow I'll check for any dental remnants and keep ya posted.
Meanwhile, if my body ever goes missing, check the fireplace first.
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